OF ALL the stories the Guardian has ever covered, the one about ‘The Wolfman’ of Pantyffynnon tips must rank among the strangest.

A Rambo-esque figure scavenging a living in a relatively small wooded area while eluding local police – you couldn’t make it up, could you?

The Guardian has been aware of Wayne Morgan’s alternative lifestyle for a number of years – only now that the case has become a Missing Person’s inquiry can we disclose his identity.

What started out as an intriguing local story went national – and then global – after we learnt Mr Morgan had been dubbed ‘The Wolfman’ by local kids.

Former policeman Sgt Charles Gabe speculated that he lived in primitive hides found on the tips and that his diet consisted of rabbits and wild berries.

At the height of the ‘Wolfman’ craze in 2009, reporters from various national newspapers descended on Pantyffynnon in the vain hope of tracking down Mr Morgan for an exclusive interview.

One magazine specialising in the paranormal even sent a reporter to assess whether this was a real-life werewolf.

Various sightings – rather like the Times’ first cuckoo in spring – were reported, but ‘The Wolfman’ remained elusive.

One local newspaper (which delights in recycling the Guardian’s ‘Wolfman’ tales) had the temerity to suggest the whole thing was “a shaggy dog story” – a notion shown to be somewhat naïve by recent developments.

But strip away the legend and what’s left?

A missing man, a police appeal and a worried family anxious for news.

The story of ‘The Wolfman’ of Pantffynnon tips is actually a very human one.

So – in the unlikely event that Wayne reads this – as the world and his wife seem to have expressed an opinion about you, isn’t it about time we heard from your own lips how you have achieved what is, by any yardstick, an epic feat of survival?

Was that abandoned den inspected by police a couple of years back really yours? And how did you manage to survive those freezing sub-zero temperatures of last winter?

Contrary to popular belief, police are not seeking you in relation to allegations of a string of petty thefts. You have nothing to fear.

Believe me, nothing would give us greater pleasure than to publish your side of the story.

And afterwards, I’d be more than happy to take you for a pint at the Old Cross.